


Love was only the beginning

by lesyeuxverts



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M, Non-Linear Narrative, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-24
Updated: 2013-10-24
Packaged: 2017-12-30 09:12:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1016797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lesyeuxverts/pseuds/lesyeuxverts
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The blood that burned too hot through Severus was too cold in Harry.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Love was only the beginning

Harry was up to his elbows in soapy dishwater, his leather bonding band soaked and his fingers wrinkling in the water. With the clank and clatter of dishes and pots in counterpoint to his humming, he ignored the whoosh-slam of the front door and the icy blast that skittered through the kitchen.   
  
Severus stalked past Harry. His presence sizzled along Harry's nerves, dark as the smell of burnt leather and permanent as a brand. Harry only hummed louder, raising his voice to cover the crystal-clink of the brandy snifter and the glug-glug of the brandy.  
  
"Black is the color of my true love's hair …"  
  
The tip-tap of Severus's pointy-toed boots sounded behind Harry, but he didn't turn his head. "Stop that abominable caterwauling, Potter."  
  
Soaked in dishwater, the bonding band still reacted to Snape's presence. It tightened around Harry's wrist until he turned around, looking up at him through fluttering eyelashes. "Yes, love? Did you need something?"  
  
Severus reached out to Harry. His hand hovered in the air over Harry's shoulder before he retreated at last, letting the hum of the bonding band die down. "No," he said. "No, there is nothing. We'll take dinner upstairs tonight."  
  
"His face is like some rosy fair …"  
  
"Stop, Potter." Severus's shoulders were slumped for an instant before he pulled his back straight, stalking up the stairs with the tip-tap of his boots echoing on the wooden steps.   
  
Harry turned back to the dishes, slopping dirty water out of the sink as he scrubbed the next clanking cauldron.   
  
\-----  
  
The blood that burned too hot through Severus was too cold in Harry. Wool scritch-scratching against his skin, Harry pulled the sweater tighter. It rubbed against his neck, and the tender skin there was rose-red from the scratching. Severus knelt before him and kissed the hollow of his throat.  
  
"I did not ask you to bind yourself to me."  
  
Harry pressed his forehead against the windowpane – it was hot to the touch, the rumble-roar of the night air carried through the grass. Branches clattered against the window and Harry startled, falling into Snape's lap. With the twist of his hip, bumping against the hard wooden floor, the scrabble of his arms and his flailing fingers, landing hurt.  
  
"I did not ask you to save me."  
  
Harry did not answer and Snape pushed him away, standing and stalking to the door. He stood there for a long moment, looking down at Harry – in his shirtsleeves, with his collar open and his trousers low on his hips, he beckoned to Harry. "Come to bed, Potter. I need you tonight – you can't deny me."  
  
Shaking his head, Harry wrapped his arms around his knees and pulled them close to his chest. He was cold – Severus had taken all of his heat.  
  
Thud-thud, Snape crossed the room to kneel before Harry. With a quick swoop, he fastened a leather bonding band around Harry's wrist and broke the string of wooden beads around his neck. The leather was cool and smooth, a circle to bind Harry's blood – it held him, it felt final.   
  
"You're mine," Snape said. "I need you tonight."   
  
\-----  
  
With the whisper-weave of the tall grass in the wind, the sunlight streaming through the leaves to dapple the ground, and the honey-hum of the bumbling bees to lull him, Harry laid his head on Snape's lap. He twisted his fingers in the grass, breaking the blades until his hands were stained green.  
  
Snape tangled his fingers in Harry's hair, stroking the line of Harry's collarbone with his other hand. He traced the circular scars at Harry's throat, the clackity wooden beads that Harry wore. The necklace was the bond that bound them together.  
  
"Stop that," Harry said, batting at Snape's hand. Their fingers laced together, Harry pulled Snape down for a kiss.  
  
The necklace rattled as Harry shifted in Snape's lap, sitting up and curling his arms around Snape's neck. He shuddered in the warm sunlight, feeling the pull of the bond, the slick-sweet lethargy dragging him back down to the grass. Sun warmed-grass and sun warmed-sleep – Harry yawned, pulling Snape down with him.  
  
"Not yet, you don't," Snape said, the corners of his mouth quirked up in a half-smile. "Not yet, Harry. I'll have you first. I need you."  
  
Rolling on top of Harry, he pinned him to the ground, crushing the grass beneath their weight. With a fever-flicker of lust shared between them, a deep kiss and the click-clack of Harry's wooden beads, they loved each other.  
  
\-----  
  
Steel pricked against Harry's throat as he knelt in the dusty Shack. It was Dark – it was forbidden – it was unforgivable. It was necessary. He knelt next to the pool of blood, and dropped a string of rough-hewn wooden beads into it, rolling them with his palm.  
  
When the beads were coated with blood, when the steel pricked Harry's throat, the world spun and the blood vanished and the wound became real. Blood gushed out of Harry's throat, venom ran through his veins, and Snape lay on the floor of the Shack, spread out before Harry.   
  
His chest rose and fell – Snape breathed. Slipping the beads around his neck, Harry pressed his ear to Snape's chest. The blade fell from his hand, crash-clattering on the floor, and his blood stopped flowing.  
  
He took a deep breath, and when Snape's eyes fluttered open, Harry kissed him. "Welcome back."  
  
Snape blinked, reaching out to trace the line that the beads made on Harry's sweater. There was a flicker-fumble, a spark of lightning that arced through Harry's chest when Snape's fingernail scraped against the wood, but he brushed the sensation away. Nothing mattered with Snape in his arms.  
  
Kissing, hands roaming over warm flesh, breath shared and heartbeat shared, they rolled together on the floor. Harry was coated with dust and dirt, his heart racing – still weak from the loss of blood, the blood that had gone to Severus, he laughed. This was life.  
  
\-----  
  
There was a flicker of silver in the forest, and Harry followed it. There were echoes deep in the forest – forecasts of future and whisper-wind blown from the past, hauntings and hallows and worlds without end.  
  
A silver stag, a silver doe – Harry heard the song, deep within the forest. "I love my love and well he knows, I love the ground whereon he goes."  
  
It was Snape, kneeling in a clearing. A silver sword sparkled at the bottom of the pool, and Snape traced the outline, scratching a cross on the clear-glass ice. "I'll suffer death ten thousand times."  
  
His voice was velvet in the night, running down Harry's spine and settling there. Snape was in his blood and his nerves – all the hatred, all the wrongs, it melted away when Harry saw him there, kneeling by the pool and wreathed in silver-shimmer light.   
  
"You love me," Harry said. He knelt next to Snape, laying a hand on top of his. Snape's skin was smooth-leather soft, with a hard ridged band around his forearm where the Dark Mark was. It was a bond, unbreakable.   
  
"I would die for you," Snape said. He did not admit that the doe was for Harry. He did not offer him the sword or empty words.   
  
Harry took the words from him with a kiss. Awkward, their lips chilled and chapped, their fingers fumbling in the silver glow, they came together. In the cold and the dark, in the forest by the pool, it was enough. Love was enough.   
  
Love was only the beginning.


End file.
